Sunday, April 22, 2012

The Paul Collins Beat; Supertouch @ Generation Records

Hard to believe but this appears to be the first purposeful Record Store Day event touched on by this blog. That's a little weird, suffice it to say, considering the very soul of all the music discussed here is that which found its pulse via the actual physical record, including and maybe especially, that of the still put on circular wax variety found in niche shops that were Churches before they were niche. But never one for following along, this hack has somehow avoided the one day festival that is Record Store Day.

So let it be then that the First Record Store Day for this hanger-on should feature the Paul Collins Beat. At Generation Records - one of the truly last vestiges of a world that will cease to exist in short order - this was the story of Rock n Roll in a nutshell (Lately - over at the old fake-radio program, I've taken to referring to the Rise and Fall of Rock n' Roll as if the Fall is a done deal. Spoiler alert: it probably is.). Way back yonder in a different key, the Paul Collins Beat were exactly what was needed. The sufficient culmination of a punk-affected world, brought around to New Wave, Power Pop, and that odd but nevertheless needed nexus of the Raw Rock n Roll Mayhem meeting the ever-wonderful hook. It was one of those mysteries. By all rights, by all measures, this was exactly the kind of music that should have bridged the purists with the People. But it didn't take, did it? The 80's went one way and the purists went another. To think what could have been in a Just World, where the Paul Collins Beat were kings...

Today, Paul Collins is your Working Man's Musician. That's you up there, see? Yes you're going to see our pal Bruce at the Stadium and think that he is you. And he sort of is but not quite as much as you think. And some of you who can't be bothered with that will instead look to, oh let's say, a Henry Rollins, and you think that cat is you up there. But you're wrong there too. It's this guy. This affable, personable, no-pomposity, no-facade fella is making exactly the kind of music you thought you could make if you just could figure out those three chords. Like a young Elvis Costello with a day job.

Supertouch! Never heard of them before! Guess what? Been around a while. Guess where? New York of course. Hardcore? Yeah technically. Alienating? Nah. And in the back of a record store? Shoot, perfect. Bonus: That LP of Rock n' Roll High School behind the drummer. Like a stage backdrop but by accident.